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Merlin slumps to the ground along the shore of the Lake of Avalon, his feet still submerged in the cold water at the lake’s edge. He can’t look away from the simple little wooden boat that carries Arthur’s body toward the island in the center of the lake. His heart is broken, his spirit gone and his body limp. He can no longer cry – he is too exhausted, utterly despondent, and incapable of feeling. As Arthur disappears into Avalon’s mist, Merlin collapses onto his side, his face slamming the dirt, and his eyes stare, unblinking, at nothing.
As the evening sky begins to darken, Percival emerges from the wooded hillside above the lake. He’d been tracking Merlin and Arthur’s course, and begins searching for them along the shore of the lake. In time, he spots Merlin’s crumpled form. As he draws near and drops from his horse, he sees poor Merlin’s condition and realizes that their king is gone. First Gwaine, and now this.
“Oh, Merlin, I … I’m so …” is all he can say. He carries Merlin away from the lake and carefully lays him down on dry ground. After fetching a blanket from his saddle bag, he quickly starts a fire and removes Merlin’s soaked boots. Despite his own grief, the stoic knight does his best to make Merlin more comfortable. In time, he tries to get him to eat or drink, but has no success. Percival stays close, and attempts to engage Merlin in conversation, but he just turns his face away and stares into the woods.
The next morning, Percival hauls Merlin into a sitting position. Without moving his head, he glances up at Percival then quickly looks back to the ground. He hasn’t slept. Percival douses the fire and packs up, and pulls Merlin up onto his horse with him. They start back for Camelot. Merlin never speaks; he barely seems conscious.
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Within a couple of days, Queen Guinevere is anointed as Camelot’s sole sovereign as King Arthur’s death is officially recognized in the castle’s Great Hall. Everyone does their best to put on a hopeful face as a chorus of voices repeatedly shouts “Long live the Queen!”
Off in a quiet alcove along the castle’s lower wall, Merlin sits alone as the chants ring out in the distance. He’s been spending most of his time here since returning, as it overlooks the training grounds. There was no place Arthur liked better. Merlin spent so much time there with Arthur, watching him train with the knights, tending to his armor and weapons, handing him a goblet of drink. He can almost hear the friendly banter, the clashing of swords, the occasional yelp in pain.
The distant chorus for the queen eventually echoes into silence. Merlin sits on the floor of the alcove with his knees drawn tight up to his chest. He hasn’t been able to eat and has become quite weak. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to cry yet again, but the tears well up in his eyes and trickle down his cheek.
Everything seems so pointless now. He is unable to see a path forward or a purpose to his life. His magic feels confused, listless. It would hum and reach out and surround Arthur whenever he was near. And it would yearn uncomfortably whenever he wasn’t. Arthur had been born of magic, and Merlin was magic itself. They were destined to be together. How does one half of a soul survive without the other?
“For goodness' sake, are you still crying?”
Merlin jumps, but barely. He’s slept very little since returning, and decided the previous day that he was probably going a bit mad. He rolls his eyes. “Great, now I’m hearing voices,” he mutters to himself.
“Merlin, look at me. Don’t be frightened.”
He slowly turns his head to the side to see Arthur standing there, leaning against the back wall of the alcove. He is dressed in simple clothing, a white tunic and brown trousers, and his feet are bare.
“Uh … Arthur?”
“Hello Merlin,” Arthur states, like it’s just another day. But then he frowns, “I gather from your deplorable condition that you’ve been missing me.”
“What is this? Have I really gone mad?”
“No, Merlin. Here…” Arthur says as he moves to the front of the alcove and sits next his friend. “…give me your hand.”
Merlin reluctantly reaches toward Arthur, who takes his trembling hand between both of his.
“There, can you feel me?”
“Yeah … Yes, I can feel you. But you’re not warm. How are you here?”
“Hmm ... yes. Well, I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’m still learning how this death thing actually works. It’s not at all what I expected. So far, most of my time has been spent learning what an unbelievable idiot you are. How you worked and suffered and hurt yourself all for my benefit, for Camelot’s benefit.” Arthur shakes his head. “I truly understand it all now, and I’m truly in awe of you.”
Merlin can only stare at Arthur with wide eyes as he continues. “You should be happy to know that Freya and your father have been excellent guides. I want to say … I wish things had been different – that I had known and been there for you and allowed you to grieve when they died, like you did for me when my father died.”
Arthur smiles as he releases Merlin’s hand and wraps his arm around his shoulder. “But, the past is the past. Just know that I know all of it now – all of what you did, all the sacrifices you made. I also know that neither of us chose this intermingled destiny of ours, but I’m sure glad you were the one chosen to be by my side.”
“I’m glad, too, Arthur.” Merlin smiles, the first time in many days.
“Thank heavens, a smile! You have no idea how often that ridiculous smile of yours rescued me. As much as I yelled and complained, I actually couldn’t bear to be without you for more than two damn minutes…”
Merlin chuckles. “Oh, I kinda knew. You know, at first I was just sorta blindly following what I believed was my destiny, what others told me it was. But after a while, I think I did these things because of who you were to me.” Merlin’s face darkens a bit. He looks down and sighs. “If … if you do know everything now, you also know I made a lot of mistakes. Big mistakes.”
Arthur looks out over the training field. “Oh, we all made big mistakes, Merlin. But they are done, and can’t be undone.” He looks back to Merlin. “You have to let go of your guilt. Please, will you do this for me? Will you stop punishing yourself?”
“I’ll try, Arthur. I promise. I just feel so … alone. I don’t know how to go on without you. What is my purpose now?”
“Ah, that I can help you with – in fact, it’s why they let me come to you. I’m here to ask that you honor two last commands from your king. Will you do this, Merlin?”
“Yes, of course, Arthur. Please … tell me.”
“First, I want you to help Guinevere realize our dream of a united Albion. With Morgana’s defeat, peace will reign. The kingdoms that haven’t already fallen in line will now be more receptive to the idea. You were present for all the talks and negotiations held to this point – no one is better placed to assist the queen than you. Second, I want you to help her lift the ban on magic. I want you to become Camelot’s Court Sorcerer, where you can shape a new future where magic is appreciated, not feared, throughout the kingdom.”
“Arthur, do you really think all this is possible?” A seed of hope begins to sprout in Merlin’s chest.
“I do, Merlin. It can happen, with your assistance. And Guinevere will readily agree – I promise you.”
“Then I promise you, I will work to make it happen,” Merlin says with a smile.
“Good. Excellent!” Arthur stands, dragging Merlin up with him. They face one another, and Arthur smiles to see life returning to Merlin’s eyes. “And now, I must take my leave. I must rest. And you must carry on.”
Arthur puts his hands atop Merlin’s shoulders. “But, do not fret. Our bond is forever, this bond of sacrifice, of love.” His voice breaks a bit. “We are tied together by destiny, by duty… and, yes, by magic. You are immortal, and I am but a guest in Avalon. We will be together again, Merlin, you have my word. It’s okay to miss me, as I will miss you. But please, no more guilt, no more despair. One day, you and I will be reunited, and we will never have to part again.” Arthur gives Merlin’s shoulders a little squeeze, and a gentle shake. “All right?”
Merlin smiles and nods, and bows his head with a sigh and a chuckle. “Okay, Prat. You win, like always.”
Arthur shakes his head, giving Merlin a wide grin, and they pull one another into a strong embrace. When they separate, Merlin rests his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, and they exchange a warm gaze.
“Take care of yourself, old friend,” Arthur says. “I look forward to our next meeting.”
“As do I, Arthur, so much. And…thank you. Thank you for saving me today.” Arthur nods and his smile grows. Merlin’s eyes fill with tears. They are not tears of grief, but tears of new-found hope.
Suddenly, Arthur’s shoulders become soft under Merlin’s hands, which begin to sink. Merlin’s arms fall to his side, leaving swirls in the wispy cloud that was Arthur.
Merlin frowns and bows his head for a moment. But then he gathers himself and heads off to find Gwen. They have much to discuss.
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The End